Harry Potter and the Theatre of Dreams
by Louis M. Wolf
Summary: Yet another Harry Potter continuation, trying yet another “different approach”. Flashes of important scenes in Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts. First part, “Scenes From A Memory”, complete.
1. 2: Overture 1928

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Now enjoy reading.

* * *

**Part One  
Scenes From A Memory**

_2. Overture 1928_

o

_"The world is not jeopardised by evil people but by those who allow evil to happen."_ – Albert Einstein

o

Scorching hot sun dawned over England. The summer was unusual dry; no wind stirred the trees and bushes, no sound was audible apart from the humming from insects. The birds had already taken shelter from the heat. Surrey, and more precisely Little Whinging, prepared for another summer day in this thoroughly unusual year. Flies and skeeters haunted the few cool spots and disturbed peace-seeking humans, settling down on and perforating their moist skin.

Harry's scar was hurting. Far, far away a woman was screaming in agony. Again and again an inhuman voice hoarsely whispered "_Crucio_."

Lord Voldemort enjoyed the pain he was inflicting. It took some of his disappointment away. Disappointment of his servants' failure. From all those who had been sent to the ministry, only Bellatrix Lestrange had returned and was now suffering his punishment.


	2. 8: Home

_8. Home_

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, had gone out early for shopping in London and left their son Dudley and nephew Harry behind. Dudley was to play baby sitter for Harry, making sure that the latter did no harm to their home. Dudley wasn't happy with this appointment as it meant that he could not enjoy his favourite hobby: roaming the park with his urchins and bullying smaller children. Harry, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less.

His aunt and uncle had been telling the neighbours for years that he attended a school for incurable criminal boys. He'd been treated as a mentally ill and his recent behaviour had only increased this public opinion: he could be seen, all day long, sitting on the garden bench or in the park, holding the shattered pieces of what seemed to have been a mirror. Sometimes he was murmuring under his breath. Parents seeing him like this often prompted their children to cross the street and resume on the other pavement, undoubtedly assuming that he used the jagged glass pieces as a means of butchering passers-by.

In fact, this thought somehow cheered Harry up. _Harry James Potter, the weirdo_. Well, at least they left him alone in his grief. He was unable to forget the expression of utter disbelief on Sirius' face when he fell backwards through the fluttering veil. He tried to picture another Sirius, the handsome young man smiling and laughing at his parents' wedding but was unable to.

Half the summer holidays had passed already without any news out of the ordinary. He had received several owls from Ron, Hermione and Hagrid. He wrote to Lupin or Moody every other day to tell them he was still alive but the lines he wrote were limited to "I'm fine. Harry." He didn't answer Hermione's letters, which he found utterly depressing. Ron had invited Harry over to the Burrow a week ago. Harry had written a very brief, very direct refusal and hadn't received an owl from Ron since. Harry rightly suspected that Ron might feel offended.

o

No sooner had the front door banged shut behind his parents than Dudley came strolling into Harry's chamber and threw himself onto the only chair. Harry was cowering on his favourite spot on the floor.

"How's life, Harry?" inquired Dudley smugly, knowing well how life was for Harry. Harry kept staring into space. Dudley was about to tease him some more when they both were startled by a loud, repetitive cracking noise downstairs. The noise of people apparating. At once Harry was alert, leaping to his feet and drawing his wand in one fluid movement: the DA had been training even for him. But then he considered; the protection charm made it unable for foes to intrude. Whoever had apparated must be a friend. _Or at least thinks so_, thought Harry bitterly.

"Whoever you are – you're not welcome!" he shouted down the stairs. "Hit the road!"

"Harry? Is that you?" Arthur Weasley's voice.

"I ruddy well think so," that sounded like Mad-Eye Moody.

"Cheerful as always these days." Lupin sounded slightly amused. Inappropriately so, according to Harry. How could _anybody_ sound cheerful?

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks was now standing in front of him, smiling brightly. At her side appeared the faces of Mr Weasley, Moody and Lupin, all rather good-humoured. However, a first look at Harry made their faces fall. Lupin was the first to recover.

"Er, Harry. Hello."

"'Lo," grunted Harry. Then he turned and made to slump back into his room. "Go away."

Dudley had crept forward and regarded the scene in awe. He was utterly ignored by the others. Now Arthur Weasley spoke, sounding embarrassed.

"Well, Harry … we realise you might not enjoy company just yet but unfortunately there's business to attend to. The minister wants to see you tomorrow so we thought it best to bring you to …" his voice trailed off as Harry slammed the door shut.

Now it was Lupin's turn to try, and after him Tonks spend some time arguing with a silent door. Finally she looked at the others in puzzlement, shrugged and turned expectantly to Moody. Obviously, he had not come for idle chatting. The door swung open with a flick of his wand. Without paying attention to a squeaking Dudley he stepped into the room, summoned Harry's broom with a lazy gesture and pushed it towards him.

"We. Are. Leaving. _Now_!" he bellowed. Then he extracted a letter from one of his extensive pockets, pushed it into Dudley's lap and turned to leave. As though mesmerised, Harry followed. When they crossed the hall Harry saw that the others had also brought their brooms and had left them downstairs. Moody stopped shortly to cast a dissendium charm on Harry. Without a further word they left through the back door, mounted their brooms and soared off towards Grimmauld Place.

o

_It was happening slowly and at first nobody seemed to pay attention. The _Daily Prophet_ was not writing about it, and why should it? But those few who paid attention to the Muggles' news eventually began to notice. Nothing to cause the casual reader to think twice; no big headlines, only a few small commentaries on the last page: children's pets, cats and dogs, were disappearing all over the country …_


	3. 1: Regression

_1. Regression_

So far, Harry had quite well succeeded in spending the entire time in silence, except when giving short answers to direct questions. Ron and Hermione had both insisted on escorting Harry to the ministry and Mr Weasley had agreed. The four of them had flooed instead of taking the tube and were now walking through one of the corridors towards Fudge's office in slightly dusty robes.

Fudge stepped out of his office at the end of the corridor and theatrically opened his arms to welcome them. A broad smile was plastered on his face. But suddenly a figure stepped forth and between Fudge and them. _Percy_. His voice was shaking.

"Harry … dad …" he paused and drew breath. His shoulders were hanging and his expression was utterly miserable. "I am sorry," he finally said softly. Harry and Mr Weasley, both walking in front, had stopped thunderstruck. Harry saw that Mr Weasley's face had gone rigid but he felt an unhappy sneer form around his own mouth. He looked at Percy and suddenly hot anger began to boil in him. Percy was responsible. He, like so many others, had believed the stupid tales the ministry kept telling. Even worse, he _had been telling_ these stories. He had acted as though Harry was a liar, Dumbledore a senile fool and Voldemort non-existent. He had preferred to live his peaceful, stupid little life and pretend that nothing was happening. Because of _him_ Sirius had died.

Percy meanwhile had dropped to his knees and now he raised his head and looked straight at Harry's eyes.

"I can't undo what I have done. And I won't ask you to forgive my part of the blame for Sirius Black's death. Because you can't forgive me that, I know. It's to late. _It's too late_ …" his voice trailed off. But then he focused again.

"I have been blind by my own fault. I hope I see now – _please_! Can both of you give me a second chance? A chance to repair some damage I have done at least?" He looked pleadingly, his eyes flickering from his father to Harry and back.

"I …" Harry thought of Sirius again. But he also thought of the Weasleys. Of Mrs Weasley, of how unhappy she had been because of her row with Percy.

"I forgive you." he heard himself say almost mechanically. He glanced at Mr Weasley's face. It hadn't softened but Mr. Weasley slowly said "So do I." Then he extended an arm and helped Percy to his feet. He turned and then five people resumed their way towards Fudge, whose smile had faded.

"Trust Percy to be pompous on occasions like this," Harry heard Ron whisper to Hermione but he sounded quite awe-struck. Harry hoped that this had been the right thing to do. Percy's assumption had been correct, he wasn't able to forgive anyone for letting Sirius die. On the other hand, Percy _did_ perhaps deserve a second chance. But did Fudge? He glanced up. Fudge's face was sorrowful, reflected the same thing Harry had been thinking. _Was he willing to forgive Fudge? Was Fudge in his position allowed failure?_

They now stepped into the excessively decorated office, followed by the minister who closed the door behind him. Then he monitored them to the empty chairs and walked slowly to sit down in his own chair behind the big mahogany desk.

Again he raised his hands in a well-studied gesture as if pleading with gods. His face was composed again, diplomatically, almost matter-of-fact. His voice was as smooth as ever.

"Mr Potter, the ministry offers its condolence and deepest regrets for the miserable turnouts of the recent events. Nothing makes us more unhappy than to admit that indeed, we have all been deceived. Nobody here could have foreseen the most tragic …" Here he was interrupted by a deep voice coming from behind them.

"Oh, but you will notice that they could. That some, in fact, _have_. – I am sorry to interrupt you, Cornelius," Albus Dumbledore politely added from the door which he had opened unnoticed.

They all turned in surprise and Fudge started. His self-confidence vanished visibly. However, he caught himself and obviously decided that attack proved the best defence.

"Dumbledore! You are interrupting a private invitation. With all due respect, I must insist upon your waiting outside." He pointed his finger to the door. Dumbledore smiled politely, nodded and said:

"Of course. As I said, I am sorry to interrupt but unfortunately I have a business of utmost importance to attend to which I would like to get done as quick as possible. Business concerning _you_, Cornelius." They all, including Fudge, stared, a fact to which Dumbledore seemed oblivious. He continued calmly: "You were just discussing the recent events, I gather. Alas, most unfortunate for the ministry. And most embarrassing, too, according to the Prophet. In fact," he raised his voice slightly, "the Daily Prophet seems to mirror the public opinion when claiming that our dear minister was no longer up to his duty." He sighed sadly.

"I received this vote of no confidence," he held out a parchment, "from the ministry's body today, along with an order of removal of the minister from office." Shocked silence met this announcement. "The body has appointed the vice-chairwoman of the Wizengamot, Amelia Susan Bones as the temporary replacement until new votes will be held in exactly one week." He handed a stock-still no-longer-minister the parchment, turned to the other five people in the room and said, "That accomplished, I was told to escort some people safely home for lunch." His eyes were twinkling merrily now.

With a wave of his hand he walked out of the room. Harry glanced uncertainly back and forth but Fudge seemed to be occupied by the parchment so he stood up and hurried after Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione in his wake. Mr Weasley and Percy followed more slowly. At the elevator Mr Weasley told them that he would now go back to work and the others, including Percy, followed Dumbledore towards the fire crates where they were handled floo powder. Before Harry stepped into the fire and carefully pronounced his destination he saw that Dumbledore whispered something in Percy's ear. _Of course, he's the secret keeper_, he thought before the world started to spin and he landed in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Shortly afterwards Percy stepped out of the fire and was immediately caught in Mrs Weasley's tight embrace. Both were crying and laughing at the same time. Harry felt himself truly smile for the first time this summer.

o

Later that evening Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat in front of the crackling fire in the library. Ron and Harry were playing Wizard chess, Hermione and Ginny watched them idly. Harry had erected what he thought was a decent defence line and Ron seemed to have a hard time breaking through it while Harry's leftover knight was wreaking havoc amongst his opponent's pawns. When Ron's queen finally managed to get through Harry's defence wall and began what Harry saw now was a perfectly laid out attack, Hermione stifled a wide yawn and stood up, smoothing her skirt.

"Time for me to turn in," she announced. "'Night, boys, Ginny." She leaned down and pecked Ron on the cheek. He turned his head and caught her lips with his for a brief moment, smiling up at her. While she left the room Ron turned back to a petrified Harry. Finally, the pawn Harry had been about to play fell from his numb fingers. The sound of it hitting the chessboard sounded deafening in the silence.

"You … what?" he croaked. "How long?"

Ron eyed him in disbelief. "You didn't know? Hell, it's been weeks. Since the beginning of the holidays in fact. I never knew you didn't know!" he blushed slightly, "I rather thought it was obvious. Shortly after that night at the ministry it just … happened, you know?" Harry began to realise just how much he'd missed by retreating from his environment and into his thoughts. He snapped his still open jaw shut and said: "Well, I'm happy for you. On second thought, I can't say I didn't really expect it, though." He grinned tentatively at Ron who turned scarlet but grinned back lopsidedly.

o

_… and reappeared a few days later. What was not mentioned in the newspapers, however, was the fact that those pets were no longer docile when they returned. They would snarl and hiss and spit when approached by their owners, and sometimes slashing at them with sharp claws. They would no longer take dead food but rather hunt on their own. They had turned wild._


	4. 4: Through My Words

_4. Through My Words_

"Yes," Percy explained later, "it was foolishness, nothing less. Stupidity. I can't say how ashamed I am, of myself and of the ministry." He firmly grasped the cup of chai standing on the table in front of him, as if for support.

Hermione smiled at him sympathetically. "Yea, you have committed mistakes. But so do all, don't they? The important thing is, you weren't actually working for the Death Eaters." She didn't tell him that this was what they had sometimes feared, although none of them would have admitted it. But Percy shook his head sadly.

"No, Hermione. You're a smart witch but here you're wrong. See, what I did was the worst possible behaviour, worse perhaps even than being a Death Eater. I showed lack of courage. I didn't show my colours. I thought above all we had to comply to the laws. Had to follow the rules. You should know what I mean: you're prefect. How could there possibly be anything more important than rules?

"Oh, of course there is. And I didn't understand this. But, Hermione: what if these rules are made for an evil purpose? Lucius Malfoy influenced our minister as we all know _and_ he was a loyal Death Eater. He made sure certain laws that suited him were passed and others were delayed. Yes, he confessed recently. It's classified and I shouldn't be telling this. But see, this is exactly the problem. I obeyed without asking twice. _That's_ lack of courage. And _this_ is what makes it so easy for You-know-who: he doesn't need a hundred Death Eaters when he has a thousand people doing his biding quite voluntarily. In a way, the whole ministry followed his command. Mr Fudge pretended that You-know-who had never come back to power. And I, like so many others believed him although I knew what Dumbledore claimed." He laughed, "isn't that stupid? Hasn't Dumbledore often enough shown that he knows so much more than Mr Fudge? And still I believed _him_, just because he was the minister and he made the laws."

Hermione didn't seem entirely convinced but Harry thought he saw Percy's point: As long as people were willing to pretend that they were on the right side of the law and only led their petty lives it would be possible for anybody to take advantage of the situation. In order to prevent evil from happening that general behaviour had to change.

o

Harry wanted to ask Percy a question but feared it might hurt the newly-established peace. So he sat in silence and brooded while the others continued to discuss. But eventually he turned to Percy who wasn't much involved in the general talk either and asked:

"Percy, what about my process? When I was tried for my using magic in front of Dudley. Why were you on Fudge's side?" Percy shifted uncomfortably.

"I wanted to demonstrate my allegiance. Everyone knew that you were my brother's best friend. I think Mr Fudge wanted to test me when he appointed me scribe for the process. And I wanted to excel in this test of confidence. I wanted to show everybody that I was placing law and order higher than my family and friends." He sighed, "foolishness. Wrong sense of priorities. My parents had every reason to be mad at me."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement. At least Percy, unlike Fudge and many others, saw his mistakes and was determined not to repeat them.

o

_In the week before the new Hogwarts term would start, a notice in a local newspaper in southern England announced that the police was searching for two missing children._


	5. 3: Strange Deja Vu

_3. Strange Deja Vu_

A new school year was about to start and Harry, Hermione and Ron were once again sitting on the train to Hogwarts. They were sharing a compartment with Ginny, Dean and Neville.

"So, who'll be next?" Ron asked the others.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's see. We had a Death Eater. And, oh yes, another servant of You-know-who …" – "Say Voldemort, will you?" – "… then there was a werewolf out of control and a demented civil servant. And last, but certainly not least, there was Lockhart, that old fraud," said Ron and cast Hermione an amused sideways glance.

"So is Trelawney," mumbled Hermione under her breath but loud enough for everybody to hear. They all grinned; there was no arguing with that.

They spend a good part of the trip speculating who would be the next defence against the dark arts teacher. Ron basically threw in names of people he knew from his father's work at the ministry. Hermione proposed several well-known witches and Wizards she had read about in books but none of the others knew any of the names. Ginny and Neville played Hermione's counterparts and listed names which were heard of on the Wizard wireless or in the pages of the Daily Prophet devoted to gossip. Dean and Harry, being Muggle-born and not as well-read as Hermione listened to the others.

But the evening proved that nobody had hit near the mark.

o

At the start of the banquet in the Great Hall that evening Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands to restore silence. "I have the enormous pleasure," he announced happily, "to introduce to you our new defence against the dark arts teacher, a young witch who has already proven her capability in dealing with Death Eaters as an auror of the ministry. I am pleased to welcome professor Nymphadora Tonks." To his right, Tonks had raised from her seat and was beaming at the assembled crowd.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione gawped. "That bitch! She never told us a single word," said Ron indignantly but he stood up with the rest of them and clapped enthusiastically. Tonks, in meantime, was showing her talent by knocking over Snape's goblet when sitting down again. However, Harry had the strange impression that this latest little accident of hers was not so accidental after all. Snape seemed to think the same while glaring at her in silence. Tonks gave him her most charming, most innocent smile but her eyes seemed to glint of more than only candlelight: _Mischief_.

o

_"Always remember," Harry lectured, sounding very much like Moody now, "there is _no_ defence against the Deadly curse. You can deflect any other charm with enough willpower. You can overcome imperius with control of mind. You even can break a cruciatus curse. It's hard … I don't think there's more than a handful of witches and Wizards capable of doing this. But there is _nothing_, absolutely _nothing_ to counteract or reverse the Killing curse."_

_The whole DA group was listening avidly, drinking in every single word he said._


	6. 7: Through Her Eyes

_7. Through Her Eyes_

It was at the Hallowe'en party in the Gryffindor tower.

The butterbeer must really have had an effect on him – and her, for that matter – otherwise the situation was beyond any earthy explanation: Harry and Parvati had their lips glued together, mouths opened, while their tongues were interlocked. He was pushing her towards the boys' dormitory. Her arms were firmly around his middle, fists clenched around the tissue of his t-shirt while his right arm was wound around her shoulder, pressing her against him and his left hand was resting on her buttocks.

Now they had reached the door and he blindly pressed the handle, making them stumble backwards suddenly. He closed the door again with a kick of his heel without ever breaking the embrace.

"Parvati, I badly need to … uh."

"What?" she whispered hoarsely.

"I need to shag you," he murmured into her ear, blushing. She giggled. They stumbled and fell onto a bed, Harry on top of Parvati. It was Ron's bed, which stood nearest to the door. They immediately sat up and Harry impatiently started to pull on Parvati's shirt. She elegantly raised her arms above her head and Harry tore the garment away.

"Sweet bra!" he commented under his breath.

"Thanks," she moaned, as he ran his hands up her sides and kissed the skin of her neck. He quickly removed his own shirt and she began to trace her fingers over his torso. He fingered for the clasp of her bra, undid it in a matter of seconds, pulled it to the front and slid it down her arms.

"Just lay back and relax," he told her and began to pull down her trousers.

Just then the door opened again. Silence. Harry turned his head to see Dean standing on the threshold, goggling, frozen in place. "Oops," he finally managed to say.

"Dean!" bellowed Harry, flushed, "move the hell out of here!"

"Oh. Yea. Right. Sorry, Harry, Parvati. I'll just … go now." With that he positively fled from the room and shut the door noisily. Harry sighed to hide his embarrassment and turned back to Parvati.

"Uh … let's just continue where we stopped, shall we?"

o

_"Well, as you can see," and he pointed at himself, "there is one way to survive the curse. However, I don't recommend that to you." He smiled unhappily. "I survived because my mother had died to save me. That's ancient protective magic and even Voldemort's curses are not strong enough to break it. Unfortunately, this protection does no longer exist for me: Voldemort can harm me now. And I don't believe he will commit this same mistake again, either._

_"So, don't get the target of a killing curse. CONSTANT VIGILANCE__!" he bellowed. Nobody laughed._


	7. 11: The Spirit Carries On

_11. The Spirit Carries On_

"Yes Harry, I am afraid you have to continue occlumency lessons – _with_ professor Snape. Both of you have to learn how to work together. You cannot bear grudges forever." Harry bit his tongue not to yell at his headmaster. Snape was the one with grudges, not him. He hadn't even known Snape when his professor-to-be had already hated him with all his heart, treating him like dirt. He nodded silently and left the study, walking in direction of the dungeons.

o

"_No_. Potter! You are not concentrating! You are letting me penetrate your mind as easily as a cabbage. Not that your brain contains much more – except for that memory." Snape spat. "Always this memory. Get rid of it. You have no right even to posses it.

"Now, we will try again and I hope this time you are better prepared."

"It won't work, sir," Harry informed impassively. That pierced Snape's air of indifference. He faltered and for a split second he showed surprise. "What?"

"If you try to penetrate my mind, _sir_, you will always see this memory because it is the memory I see whenever I see you. We have to talk."

"Careful, Potter. Unofficially though those lessons may be _I_ still decide what we have to do. I have no inclination to talk. Now, if we could continue …"

But this time Harry didn't back down. "No," he said firmly. "We will talk first." And without giving Snape a chance to react he continued. "I'd like to apologise for having looked into your Pensieve." Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"But I think you made it possible for me to transgress in first place, sir. You should never have placed your memories outside my reach during practice. How am I supposed to learn something as important and delicate as this from you if I can't trust you because obviously you don't trust me, professor?" He took breath.

"That memory I saw, it showed me _why_ you don't trust me. Because of how my father treated you. But I'm _not_ my father!" He was speaking louder now, but still controlled. "I have never done anything like that, nor to you neither to someone else – not even to Malfoy. I've done nothing to earn your scorn. Do you think you treat me fairly? Well, I don't. You treat me as if I were responsible for the acts of my father. As if I had done the same stupid things.

"When I saw that memory, I wasn't proud of my father. I was ashamed." Snape gave a small jerk. Harry had yelled the last word furiously. Furious at his father, and at Snape, too. "I think I deserve to be treated as a different person. At least ignore me, if you have to. But as long as you look at me as my father, I will see you as in the memory."

There was a pause while Harry marvelled at his own courage.

"Let's see," Snape finally said in his oiliest, most dangerous voice, "hmm, yes, ten points from Gryffindor for daring to lecture a teacher. Now, I want you to get back to your common room immediately. We will meet again next week at the same time. Until then you will practice closing your mind every night before going to sleep. You will spend the remaining hour of this class writing an essay on the subject of the 'strength of personal feelings interfering with willpower'."

Harry turned on his heels and left the room in small but powerful steps, his feet stamping his frustration into the floor.

o

One week later Harry and Snape met for occlumency lessons almost as if nothing had happened. Harry handed in his essay – which in his opinion was quite good, even Hermione had found nothing to criticise – and Snape took it without a comment and started to attack Harry's mind. Harry had actually remembered to practice the past week and the training went relatively well. Snape did not once comment any weakness. The looks he threw at Harry, however, were just as hostile as ever.

Only later, when he had returned to the common room, Harry suddenly remembered that this time no Pensieve had stood on the table between him and Snape.

o

At the next training session Snape handed back Harry's essay. "Quite acceptable, Potter. However, you missed one important detail." His face showed smugness but his voice missed the usual edge when he said, "a strong feeling such as anger and hatred or … _love_," he pronounced the last word in a careful low hiss, making it sound like something disgusting, "cannot only be a handicap. Carefully channelled it can also be a very powerful weapon. –

"Potter. Why did you only show me the memory you stole from my Pensieve two weeks ago?"

"Because … I wanted you to see this memory. I wanted to talk to you," Harry replied warily.

Snape answered with a curt nod. "Potter. Why, do you think, did I not access another memory or emotion?"

Harry shrugged, making Snape groan in impatience. "Because I was not able to!" he hissed. "You blocked me out completely." At this Harry nearly fell sideways from his chair before recovering, struggling and finally managing to keep his balance.

o

_"Constant vigilance," repeated Neville suddenly in a low, but clear voice._

_"Constant vigilance," echoed the assembled members of the DA._


	8. 10: One Last Time

_10. One Last Time_

The DA members filed out of the room of requirement. Harry noticed that Neville was staying behind and prompted Ron and Hermione to go ahead, he would follow later. When everyone save Neville and Harry had left the room he asked: "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes – but Ron and Hermione could have stayed. It's nothing secret, really. I just don't want it to become common knowledge. But McGonagall already knows."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know that until this term I didn't have my proper wand, I used my father's." Harry nodded. "And, well, you know that a Wizard always gets the best results with his proper wand – and that was part of the reason I wasn't very good at magic. – Not that I want to say I would have been good with a proper wand," he added hastily. Harry snorted. Neville might not want to boast about it but since he had got his new wand his results in doing magic had increased drastically. He was now one of the best in Charms classes and in the DA he outdid everybody but Harry.

"In our second year I noticed that my wand was nearly useless so I tried to do magic without it. Of course, it didn't work at first but I kept training in secret and by the end of the year I could do wandless magic as well as with a wand. In fact, all the time I haven't been really using my wand at all, I just pretended to use it." This revelation startled Harry and he looked impressed. Wandless magic was supposed to be extremely difficult and was controlled a good deal by concentration. Most adults could perform minor spells such as an _Accio_ without a wand but had to concentrate quite hard even to levitate small objects.

"So this year I finally got a wand and well, useless to say my results are better with it. But I didn't want to give up on wandless magic and McGonagall gave me private lessons." He paused for a second.

"The problem is that McGonagall isn't that good at wandless magic herself – I mean she never had to use a wand that wasn't really her own – so I tried a few things on my own. And I discovered something … something that professor McGonagall didn't know about! She seemed jolly impressed when she saw it," he paused. When Harry looked at him expectantly, he contiuned:

"I can add the power of several wandless spells together. Make them much, much stronger."

"_What_?" exclaimed Harry.

"I'll try to explain … when I do wandless magic I always do some gestures with my hands. They're not exactly necessary but they help me to keep focused on the object of my spell. Now, for example, when I do a spell by pushing my hands away like this," and he interlocked then fingers of his hands, turned the palms out and pushed away from his body, "and then a second spell where I extend the movement by pushing my hands a little farther," he did it, pushed his hands towards Harry, "then the second spell gets an extra burst of power." He looked into Harry's face, reading disbelief. So he said, "Let me show you," and stepped back a little.

He faced Harry, held his left arm out and opened his hand so his palm faced upwards. Then he solemnly chanted "_Lumos_" and raised his hand. A flame appeared around it. Now he quickly pointed his right arm at Harry, pushed his left hand further up in a quick movement and cried "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Harry shot up into the air. Luckily the ceiling of the room was very high so Harry didn't crash into it. But he screamed surprised. Neville lowered his hand and levitated Harry back to the floor lightly.

Harry was breathing heavily. He noticed that Neville was, too, but that he also held himself upright and that he seemed fully capable of repeating what he just had done. Harry knew that it should be impossible. Sure, lifting heavy objects up into the air was possible but it was also an immense strain on the body. At the international Quidditch championship, it had taken the whole crowd of death eaters to suspend three Muggles in the air without them falling down.

"Wow," Harry uttered as soon as he had enough breath, "how on earth did you do that?"

Neville blushed and said: "Actually, that wasn't very difficult. Okay, you have to concentrate but the co-ordinated movement of the hands helps very much. As for the power boost, I have no idea where it comes from. When I showed it to professor McGonagall she told me that she would make a few investigations. So far she hasn't been able to find anything. We guess that somehow you are able to concentrate much better on the second spell because it's really just a continuation of the first. And somehow this concentration lets you put more power into your spell.

Harry's head was swirling. This was magical theory, a matter usually not taught at Hogwarts (although professor McGonagall included the basics in her seventh years classes). Hermione would be delighted, he was certain. But something else was occupying his mind.

"So this means you can do magic just as well without a wand, mate?" Neville nodded awkwardly. Harry was glowing with excitement.

"Brilliant! Remember when I told you about the prophecy?" Of course. How could Neville have forgotten. Him, nearly in Harry's place. "Well, I've thought a lot about this," Harry continued, "since we both could have been the target of the prophecy we must have a lot in common. Would you mind if I tried your wand?"

Now Neville was grinning. "I've had the same idea, that's why I told you about it in the first place. Perhaps you could use my wand against Voldemort, since yours obviously can't be used against him. Try it. I'm sure it fits you." He handed Harry his wand. And yes, there was it: as soon as Harry's hand touched the wand it began to respond, just as Harry's own wand did. It wasn't so much a physical response, more like an electric charge, but after all, best described by a very slight, very low vibration which caused Harry's mind to stir and pulsate in unison with some other, more universal movement.

He waved the wand. "_Avis!_" A swarm of miniature pigeons erupted from the wand. "_Elapsus!_" the birds vanished. He closed his eyes, "_Expecto Patronum!_" and there it appeared, the magnificent silvery stag.

He opened his eyes and looked at Neville, uncertain. "You mean we should swap wands?"

"I think we should," said Neville. "But you have to decide. You have lived with your wand much longer than I have. You have grown attached to it, haven't you? Can you give your wand up to someone else?" Harry grinned, "I am about to do so." And with that he threw his own wand towards Neville who caught it deftly in mid-air.


	9. 5: Fatal Tragedy

_5. Fatal Tragedy_

"I don't get it why you're still reading this crap!" said Ron when an owl flapped towards Hermione, carrying the _Daily Prophet_.

"I've told you already," she answered fiercely. "You'd better know what the enemy thinks. Admittedly, at the moment I rather tend to tell Luna that the credibility of the _Prophet_ is naught in comparison with _The Quibbler_. It just seems unbelievable that the most important source of information among Wizards is such a bad tabloid …" her voice was exasperated, "but it's really packed with useful hints when you read it carefully."

With that she vanished behind the newspaper. Harry, meanwhile, stared transfixed on the last page. He leaned nearer, oblivious to the fact that his sleeve was dribbling with chai. Then he snatched the paper from Hermione's grasp.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Not heeding her protest, Harry read the small article which had caught his attention.

* * *

"Muggle police is currently investigating a series of strange disappearances in southern and middle England. As reported previously, there have been several children missing from their homes. Muggle police has now found evidence that apparently leads to an international gang of slave traders. 

"A spokesman of the Ministry of Magic, however, confirmed to our reporters that they suspect You-know-who to stand behind these mysterious kidnappings. 

"'They seem in some way to be related to disappearances of pets in the last few months which then turned up with their memories wiped. In a similar way, most of the children have in fact reappeared. Fortunately, the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol has been able to find the children before Muggles did. Their fate is hideous. Their memory seems to be gone beyond all repair. They have returned to some kind of primal state and do not even recognise humans as kindred. Instead, they attacked us. There is clear evidence of very powerful dark magic around them.' 

"The victims of these crimes are currently at St Mungo's. Whether or not the damage may be undone is uncertain so far."

* * *

Harry was bristling with rage. "How come these news only appear on the bloody last page? They should be headlines!"

Hermione, who had read the notice as well, shook her head in dismay. "These children are Muggles, Harry. Be assured, if they were Wizards, these news would have been the number one already. But when Voldemort is openly attacking the Wizarding community, as you know he is, then this kind of news is without interest."

"And why is Voldemort doing this? How does it help him? Or is this their twisted sense of fun?"

Hermione looked unsure. "I don't know. Unless there is some dark ritual involving the memories of children and animals I don't see how this could help him. And fun? The Death Eaters have a very different sense of fun. Hannah's family, now." She was dropping her voice. "_They_ were killed for 'fun'." Angry tears were forming in Hermione's eyes and Ron took her into his arms awkwardly. But Hermione continued.

"I nearly think it might just be a distraction. According to the history books I've read Voldemort's last reign was much more violent. There have been killings recently, all right. But they're still nothing compared to last time. Voldemort is preparing something and he doesn't want us to notice.

"On the other hand … this is too simple. If even _we_ are able to figure that out, then who is Voldemort counting on fooling with that? It's a pity that none of the Order would tell us about what they know."

"What do you think … does the Order know about it at all?" asked Ron musingly. And seeing Hermione's expression, he explained himself hastily. "Well, it's not as if the Order had never committed stupidities in the last few months! Even Dumbledore … leaving Harry in the dark about the prophecy like this, I beg you!"

o

Harry had been restless. Finally he had decided that he simply had to ask the headmaster what he knew. Now he was standing in front of the passage that lead up to Dumbledore's study and was trying different passwords. Soon he was sure that none of the usual sweets, purchasable at Honeyduke's, applied. Then he had to laugh; apparently Dumbledore was not as disinclined to "Fainting Fancies" as Hermione had been. The way opened and he went up the stairs and rapped the door to Dumbledore's study before entering.

"Harry." Dumbledore sat in the chair behind his desk, fingers interlocked. "I have been expecting you."

"You … what?" Harry was taken by surprise but recovered quickly. "Anyway, sir, I'd like to talk about the Order. I hope I did not disturb you?" he added uncertainly.

"No, no, not at all. Make yourself at home." Harry sat down. "Now, what were you interested in?"

Harry pointed at the _Daily Prophet_ which lay on the desk in front of Dumbledore. "Have you read the article, too, sir? The one about the children?" Dumbledore inclined his head.

Harry told him about their discussion and what Hermione was thinking. When he fell silent, Dumbledore took his time, glancing at Harry and then at the newspaper. At last he sighed. Harry noticed how sad and tired Dumbledore looked. He had never seemed that tired, not even after Sirius' death, nearly one year ago.

"And yet again we meet an evidence of Miss Granger's cleverness. The Order has figured out just as much, but no more. We believe the same. I have tried to make out a connection between the victims, looking for common factors. But Tom is very intelligent. He would never leave such an open trail, if there were one. The victims, obviously, have no common factor whatsoever. Their choosing seems random. But still I believe that there is some purpose behind this. I believe that Tom made sure there was no pattern by picking _some_ random victims. The animals, for example. Either he was just practising then or he wanted to lead us on a false trail. But obviously, this is only my speculation.

"But we know what Tom wants; we know what he dreams of: a pure-blood community of Wizards. No Muggles, no half-bloods. What Tom wants is no less than breeding his 'perfect' race. He is not the first to have this delirium. Others have tried that before, Wizards and Muggles alike – useless to say that they have all failed in the end. But like all others before him his aims are to make sure that no 'lesser blood' can interfere.

"You know, Harry, that I seldom consider the Art of Divination useful. Still I know it and I respect it. And so does Tom. My guess is that Tom has tried to divine future liaisons between Wizards and Muggles. He has very gifted diviners in his service. He is making sure that these connections will never exist. He is neutralising possible progenitors interfering with his breeding program."

Harry was listening raptly. What he had just heard seemed so crazy, so unbelievable. But somehow he instinctually knew that Dumbledore was guessing correctly. There was no other explanation.

"Is there nothing the Order can do? Can't we protect these people?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"Alas, no. We have no way of telling who might be endangered. But you are quite right. I have thought long and I don't think we can tolerate this any longer. I will tell you a secret, Harry: was it not for the prophecy I would seek out Tom at once. But it seems as if I will not be the one to end Tom's horrors. All I can do is help to prepare you. And I am sorry for that. Please believe me, Harry; I truly am."

Harry nodded silently. He stood up and left the study. Deep in thoughts he returned to the Gryffindor common room. He was not sure how much he should tell the others. But they had to know. This knowledge was a burden too heavy to be carried alone.


End file.
